


Path of Wisdom

by WonderWafles



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22103335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderWafles/pseuds/WonderWafles
Summary: If Makee serves, and hopes, and follows, eventually the way will become clear to her.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3





	Path of Wisdom

**Author's Note:**

> Like many I was... skeptical when I heard of this particular plot point, but eventually I decided to try my hand at thinking of a way it might work.

These are the things that Makee knows:

The Path is broad, and the creatures of the Covenant will walk it side by side.

She is not a creature of the Covenant. She is a human, filthy, unclean. Her blood is sacrilege, her breath an offense.

If she serves - if she does what the Minister of Contrivance tells her - then perhaps her sinful flesh will be stripped away when the time comes, her soul shriven of its impurities by the cleansing fire of Halo and allowed to join the Covenant at last.

That time is far off. For now, she is to stay put where the Minister tells her. Perform the tasks the Minister asks of her.

It is for this reason she is crouched behind the Minister's desk, in a compartment built especially for her. Voices argue outside the door - The Minister is in the room, and so is another.

She tries to control her breathing, even though it made no difference. The Minister was of course intelligent enough to install sound dampeners in her room for just such an occasion.

"You push the council too far," came the sinuous voice of another San’Shyuum. "There is knowledge in the path of the gods, but it comes with patience and humility."

"Patience? Humility?" The Minister's voice was airy and dry, exactly the tone of voice Makee always expected her to use when imparting a lesson. "I have been patient and humble enough in my pursuit. Is this not what our ancestors believed, when they pried the sacred relics from the Stoics who doubted them?"

"I advise caution. That is all."

"Of course." The Minister was quiet with contempt. Makee had heard her like this before, and she thrilled a bit to hear that tone used on another. 

"You should go, brother," the Minister said. "It's late. We'll resume this discussion next cycle if you'd like, but I advise you to remember that I keep only the best interests of the Covenant at heart."

There was no response, but Makee heard the sound of the other Prophet's gravity throne move away. She let out a breath at last as the door slid shut behind him.

Still, she waited for the Minister’s word. It felt like an eternity before the words came. “You may come out.”

She slid the door open and scrambled out. Her limbs ached as they stretched out, her body uncoiling itself from its painful position in the cabinet. 

Like the people of the Covenant, she was going to keep growing. It would not be long before she did not fit in her old hiding place anymore.

She sat by the wall. A crick in her back was persistent, but she did not speak of it. She waited to speak until she was spoken to.

The minister was sat on her gravity throne, like the other she had been talking to. She had taken her forehead and was massaging it, her fingers long and dextrous. So unlike Makee’s hands, stubby and deformed in comparison, unsuited for art or the making of things. As she watched her benefactor, she quashed a moment of jealousy.

“You know, human,” the Minister said. She did not use Makee’s name unless necessary. “I grow tired of politics.”

“Of course, Excellence,” Makee said, her voice low and rough. That is partly the nature of her unlovely human voice, but she is also trying to keep her voice down. The technology of the Covenant aside, it was instinct to try to hide from the other San’Shyuum. “It is a burden to the pursuit of the Great Journey.”

“And yet necessary,” the Minister said. “There is a riddle, eh? Have you eaten?”

“No, Excellence.”

The Minister waved her hand. “There is some Sangheili protein cake in the upper compartment,” she said. “I believe it will be digestible to you.”

Makee shuffled to the compartment. It would take some time for her to work out the pain. Her body is weak, unlike the noble Sangheili or the ferocious Jiralhanae. “Thank you, Excellence,” she said.

The… stuff was chewy and bland. But Makee appreciated the easing of her hunger pangs. 

“I’ve brought you something,” the Minister said.

Makee felt her excitement jump. “Something of the gods?” she asked breathlessly.

The Minister shot her a glance, which quelled her immediately. She reached into a compartment on her throne.

“This,” she said, holding out a little metal thing, “is a trifle. Our best guess is that this was used to amuse and instruct young Forerunners, when our gods were of flesh. We cannot guess what it does. It was easy to get a hold of, and I expect to have more soon.”

Makee took it. The metal felt silver and good in her hands. To hold something of the gods’ make… it is an honor she does not deserve. She knows that even as she holds it she is cursing it, defiling it.

Only guiltily does she enjoy this.

Obediently the device leaps in her hand. She turned its metal wings about, revealing the soft blue glow underneath. She knows little of engineering, only what the Minister (who has a passing interest in the subject) drops her like breadcrumbs, but even she knows that it is a miracle this device still has energy.

As she turned it this way and that, little symbols appeared in the crux. She has no idea what they could mean, but she cannot help but smile. She turned it again, guessing what could be shown to her this time -

The minister’s long fingers snatched it away. Makee came out of her trance.

“My - my apologies, Excellence,” she said, and salutes her in the San’Shyuum way. “I - I didn’t…”

She does not really know what she means to say. That’s okay, because the Minister isn’t paying attention anymore.

Out of the hands of a human, the device dims. The Minister tries to turn it, as Makee did, but it will not respond.

Frustration clouds her gaze. “Infernal thing,” she said.

She cannot mean that. It is a tool of the gods. It cannot be anything but holy.

The Minister floated to her window. Makee was not requested, but she followed anyway, trailing a few steps behind her.

They stared out over the vast swath of the city through the one-way mirror. Makee only leaves the apartment with the Minister, smuggled out to visit some quarter for her education, or - once or twice - to another world, to see something or to further the Minister’s research. She had never seen the city up close, not really.

“It is a test the gods have given us,” the Minister said. She is talking more to herself than to Makee. “That these holy things can only be unlocked by the hands of… humans…”

“I am sorry,” Makee said.

“Do not speak!” the Minister snapped. She turned, facing her with a face full of fire. Makee understands how the Prophets are feared, despite their physical weakness. She thinks she might be annihilated then and there.

Makee flinched backwards, falling hard to her knees. “Excellence!” she cried out. She meant to apologize, but only that came out.

At once the Minister’s expression changed. Suddenly, she was pensive. “You will teach me much,” she said. “I will pass this test, even if the Hierarchs have not the will to attempt it. I will dirty my hands so that the Covenant may be cleansed.”

Makee knew that this was probably another thing the Minister was not really addressing to her.

She held out a hand. Makee cringed, but it was extended outward.

She took it, and was helped to her feet. The Minister stared at her again. “This device is of no use to me,” she said. “And anyway, it is dirty now. You may as well…”

She was holding out the toy. Makee couldn’t believe it for a moment, but after a moment of hesitation she took it. The Forerunner character burned brightly against the silver metal.

That night, as she lay in her cot, she turned the toy over and over. It fit between her fingers more naturally than anything the Covenant had ever built.


End file.
